Who's Boromir?
by Skittle Trees Exist
Summary: Middle Earth?
1. The Before Time?

_**Dedicated to Corri and all people who forget about a movie.**_

_**Very thoroughly**_

Before you read, there are a few things you might want to know.

This story isn't written in the classical Tolkien sense or in the world that Peter Jackson created. You can call it, Lord of the Rings _as interpreted by Alice Clapp._

This story does include _real people, _but it is **not a lame self-insert.** You know?

Corri- Alice is too literal!

Amaya- Alice is too logical!

So of course, no matter how hard Amaya might try neither Pippin or Legolas will not fall helplessly in love with her.

Amaya- I hate you.

And I tend to spend my time on epics, because things just don't make sense in short stories. (Corri&Amaya- SEE!) So this will be long, but it a nice way. (HA.)

So the main points are:

The story revolves around the lives of Corrine Cunningham, Amaya Curran and I, Alice Clapp but it is not in any way a self-glorifying Mary Sue, and Middle Earth will exist as though Tolkien made some errors.

* * *

**Who's Boromir?**

Chapter One  
_The Before Time?_

Time seemed to pass insufferably slow in detention that day for a certain Cunningham. This had certainly not been her first detention that year, and by far her last. That much was sure.

It was a Friday, Amaya and Alice were waiting for her two blocks away. The sleep over was nearly dead, spasms and all. But nooo, asthma was in no way a suitable excuse for her tardiness that morning at this fine learning establishment.

Completely tired with her situation, she cradled her head on the table and muttered, "John William James, you are a complete fucking butt tube."

There were only a few good things about JWJ High School. One was the company it offered.

Second was the convenient distance it was from anything of interest.

And third was, well not much else.

Mrs. Mono-tone was again resident ruler over 'detention land'. The Cunningham allowed herself a crooked smile remembering the surprisingly great times she had had in this place. But they all happened in Mrs. Mono-Tone's absence. And there wasn't anyone in the room she knew anyway. But she peeked over her arm to make sure.

There was a guy in front of her with a ridiculously huge black mohawk. But she wasn't sure on his name. This Cunningham found entertainment in analyzing the lives of others, and when all was lost she'd make up lives for others. "Well, he looks like a Johnny. Hi Johnny!" Of course in the hush voice of one who needed no input from the other party on their own life.

A smile and a half wave later her eyes shifted to the boy sitting on the table next to his. He had a Mohawk too, but was dwarfed in comparison to Johnny's. She thought up a name for him also, "Donnie." She grinned with what she thought was a very well deserved sense of accomplishment. "Donnie and Johnny are loverrrs." She laughed inside her arm fort, since there was nothing to laugh about in the minds of the surrounding human beings. Although this usually did not stop her from releasing any sense of emotion in public, but the prior night's 3 hours of sleep had instilled her with some sort of meekness.

More time passed without any regard to flow and speed of the rest outside of the room, or the internal clocks of the students. She decided to see what she could entertain herself with in her backpack.  
Trig homework?

Cosines should get Tangents out of their asses.

Lord of the Flies?

Too much Sexual Innuendo concerning 5th graders.

Pink Paper?

"Pink Paper?"

The bright construction paper absolutely perplexed her. If any construction paper was to be found in her backpack it would be green or black or some other color, but pink? She yanked it out with such gusto that the sound received a harsh shush from Mrs. Mono-Tone and a side-glance from the enamored Donnie.

It was covered in familiar writing, Alice's writing. The first line read, "Now, Corri don't be disgusted. I ran out of paper."

It was rather creepy reading that, but Alice Clapp was a rather creepy person. She flipped through the pages, creating a welcomed breeze. So Corrine began reading, the beginning was the history of her pirate alter ego's parents, her meaning Corri in particular. Then the pirate story switched to a typed first draft of one of her original stories. But at the bottom of the stack there was a multitude of maps and birthdays and wikipedia articles and Xerox copies of book pages.

"Middle-Earth?" She whispered turning through the pages, "What? What is that?" But she didn't have much of a chance to answer her own question because,

"Corrine Cunningham."

"Hm?"

"You have served your hour. You can leave. Now go."

Grabbing the pile and her backpack she hopped outside, leaving the lovers behind. And to her surprise both Alice and Amaya were sitting at a table squealing in British accents.

"Mr. Darcy! You shouldn't have taken such terrible advantage of Mr. Bingley! He came to seek your advice on the matter, not butt sex!"

Amaya squealed back, "You are positively ridiculous!" Her voice rang a bit louder, "I did not trick Mr. Bingley into butt sex!"

Corri handed the heap of papers and remarked teasingly to Amaya, "You would have if you had the chance."

She stopped to stare for a moment at the outfits Amaya and Alice had thrown on themselves for _Team AC Rainbow Day!_ "Very Japanese Pop Starish Ama-"

Amaya interrupted her musings.

"CORE!" she jumped to wrap her in a hug. But she never reached her. Amaya had stopped in mid leap; everything froze in Corri's eyes.

The sky and the ground rose and sunk to meet each other. And stars and land melted together, she was hurled into opaque light. And no time passed. And before her, everything turned to silver glass and behind the translucent wall there were white shores and rolling green hills. But she did not see them any closer, as she felt herself thrown far away. And she fell and fell until…

A/N Boromir?


	2. Who is Faramir?

**Who's Boromir?!**

**  
**

Chapter Two 

_Who is Faramir?_

Light was becoming scarce at the hour that a certain Gondorian nobleman reached the Ford of Bruinen. He dismounted his horse to make camp. Elven lands were not too far away, not many foul things would linger here. He reached into his horse's pack for a few rations before allowing it to go graze freely. Gnawing away at his last full piece of cram, he noticed some tracks on the ground.

They were horse hooves, but there was something unnatural about them. He followed them; they were large and left heavy marks and every few steps dried blood was found near the prints. No horse graced by the elven stables would leave marks as these, and men do not travel by this road.

"Evil things were here." He said to himself tucking what was left of the cram securely into his pocket.

A sudden nervousness tightened inside of the man.

"Other fell things may not be long behind."

In a sudden panic he called his horse toward him. But a grunt was heard from behind him.

He unsheathed his sword in usual Gondorian fashion with the customary cry of "Show yourself!"

In the corner his eye, a few shrubs shook.

"Show yourself!" He belted out again.

A small rabbit scurried out of the shrubs in an awfully frightened state. After all, Boromir was this man's name. None other than the strapping young heir to the last strong nation of western men Boromir. And he had found himself uneasy over the presence of a rabbit.

"How embarrassing!" cried a voice above him. Boromir tensed, it was a feminine voice, in the wild?

"…Madam?"

He was answered with a dreadful shriek and a loud THUMP of a body hitting the ground from the heights of a tree.

Boromir could not help but stare at the young woman that lay whimpering a few yards from him. No men have lived in these parts for years, at least, that is what his brother had told him. His brother found occupation in lore and history; he was even a pupil to Mithrandir. But women…perhaps no one ever found it necessary to mention them? With sword still in hand, he stepped forward. Propriety demanded him to check on the health of the woman before any further words were exchanged.

"Are you hurt?" Which looked incredibly silly when the one asking the question was holding a sword.

Her whimpering stopped, and she raised her head to look around. Her eyes captured the unfamiliar trees, the unfamiliar sky and the unfamiliar river. Her eyes took in all of this, but her mind rejected all of it.

She gave a dizzy smile, "Much better than the zombie dream."

She raised herself off the ground and moved her hands as if she was dusting her pants. But her hands never touched her pants. She stood there, waving her arms above her thighs like mad for quite a few moments.

"Dust Dust Dust" she sang even if she wasn't truly dusting.

But enough moments had passed; Boromir was not very patient at the moment. A mad woman she must be. A mad woman living in the forest.

He strode forward gripping his sword, mad women should not be trusted after all. He opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by a question from her. Apparently just noticing his standing there.

"Zombies, you a zombie?" she asked with utmost suspicion, pausing from her dusting.

"Zombie?" A word that might have never reached his ears ever in his life had he never met this woman.

She stepped back, "No no. Not a- " she lost her footing and tripped. But quickly regained her stance, one consisting of a drunken slouched posture.

That was what Boromir thought she was, a lone drunk mad woman living in the forest. After seeing that she had no intention to continue her sentence, he decided to ask her name.

"Hm? What? Name, oh. Your name? I think his name, well. Things have names. People have names." She paused.

Then with a smile and a nod she announced, "People are things."

Suddenly the woman began to sway towards him, holding her head with a face showing some serious pain. This made him draw back, he did not want to be near a pained lone drunk mad woman living in the forest. Just as sudden as the pain seemed to appear, it vanished. Whatever calmness left her face was immediately replaced with anger.

"Who the fuck is Faramir?!" She yelled at him.

Boromir was taken back, was she a witch who knew of her brother?

"What? I am Boromir and-"

"What?" She might have a hearing problem of some sort.

"Boro-"

"Boromir?!"

"Please-"

"Then who the fuck is the other guy then?!" She was becoming very serious.

"I never said-"

"WHO ARE YOU!?"

"PLE-" His hand gripped his sword. Most men would laugh at the thought of being intimidated by a lone drunk man woman living in the forest, but they were never granted the experience.

"Boromir?"

"Yes. But for the-"

"What? Frodo! That's his name!" Whatever rage she had left her and a smile spread wide on her face.

"What?! Mad-"

"Sam? You're Sam? Nooo." Scowling and muttering, she played with her fingers through a series of curses that erupted from Boromir's mouth.

"PEACE YOU MAD WOMAN!" He mustered what he could of his composure. His brows furrowed to see her swaying singing a song with her two index finger tips touching.

"_Frodo and Sam looove each otherrr…!_"

"Will you please!" The nobleman took a deep breath, "Just, please. Act with some civility. Who…what are you?"

Something had happened to her after that fall. She couldn't remember much if at all. Half asleep, dizzy, and completely disoriented with her situation, Corrine had passed through her meeting of this man without being able to recollect what had just been said a few seconds before.

"Were my dreams always like this?" she thought.

But now, she felt a bit more in control of her mind. And with every passing moment, she became more and more aware that all that was happening wasn't a dream.

"She looks as if water has been thrown on her face…" Boromir mused.

Corrine looked at her hands, then to the scenery. First in admiration, but this succumbed to horror. She wasn't supposed to be here. What was she doing here!?

Seeing her alarm, he believed it a good idea to begin the conversation anew.

"Boromir son of Denethor, that is who-" I am was the rest of his sentence, but the flummoxed girl clenched her fists and cried out to the heavens in unfathomable frustration,

"WHO THE FUCK IS FARAMIR?!"

Her last cry before promptly falling into the river.


End file.
